


And That's To Be The King

by marina



Category: Kings, Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/marina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur thinks Jack is kind of a giant prat, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And That's To Be The King

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the brave and unstoppable [](http://roga.livejournal.com/profile)[**roga**](http://roga.livejournal.com/), who I really do not feel sorry for at all since SHE IS TO BLAME FOR THIS MESS TO BEGIN WITH. Shoutout to [](http://nextian.livejournal.com/profile)[**nextian**](http://nextian.livejournal.com/) for also taking part in instigating this disaster. This fic _ate my brain_ for like 36 hours.

The first thing Arthur said, quite loudly, when he realized he wasn't standing in his bedroom but rather a room that was several magnitudes larger and also full of objects he'd either never seen before or didn't even know the purpose of, was: "I am going to kill you Merlin. Very, very Slowly."

Jack's assistant, standing in the doorway behind Arthur, was too busy trying to pick her jaw off the floor to record Arthur's promise for posterity.

*

"Mom, you can't be serious!" Jack said.

"He's our guest, darling, it will do you good," his mother said in a tone that to reporters and secretaries probably seemed kind, if a tad overbearing, instead of the stone cold order Jack knew it implied.

"He's an alien from another planet or... or some kind of science experiment gone wrong or something!" he protested. "Why me? Why do I get stuck babysitting!"

"He claims to be a prince who's fallen into unfortunate circumstances." She said, and Jack heard her silent, _you might know something about that, Jack_. "This is a chance to do well in the eyes of the Lord." She smiled and ran her hand gently over his hair; the gesture meant _this conversation is over_ as clearly as if she'd said it out loud.

*

Jack sat still, hoping the main course would be something he could eat in less than ten minutes so this dinner would be over as quickly as possible. Arthur was just hoping it would be edible, after the gooey-blue-pudding fiasco of that afternoon.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Michelle said, sitting down at the dinning room table where Arthur and Jack were waiting for dinner to be served.

"This is my sister, Princess Michelle Benjamin," Jack said. "Michelle, this is Prince Arthur..." He considered for a moment before turning away from Michelle to face Arthur. "I'm sorry, your last name is just too ridiculous to say out loud."

"It's an old and noble name!" Arthur rose from his seat in indignation. "You'll not speak about it in that tone!"

"God, Jack, did you hear his accent?" Michelle said with a bright grin. "Come on, say something else! Say..." She appeared to be contemplating her options while a servant put a plate of something warm and raw-looking in front of a slightly baffled Arthur. "Say 'may I have this dance, my lady'!"

Jack wondered briefly whether his sister had been dropped on her head as a child and gained a subconscious preference for tall, blond strangers as a result. "Leave him alone," he said. "He's not your personal circus freak."

"I am perfectly capable of answering questions directed at me, thank you _Jack_," Arthur said, in a tone he usually reserved for Merlin. Something about Michelle, with her long dark locks and passionate eyes, looking at him with obvious interest bordering on fascination, appealed to Arthur immensely. He cleared his throat before saying, "May I have this dance, my lady?" and then performed a miniature version of the proper bow, not so much for the sake of manners but due to a strong desire to see the Princess' reaction.

Michelle rested her chin on her hands and her smile exceeded Arthur's expectations by turning even brighter.

Jack rolled his eyes in utter disgust. "All right." He rose from his seat abruptly. "I gotta... take him somewhere. It's, we have things to do."

"But the food!" Michelle said, as Jack ushered Arthur away from the table.

"Tell them to have something sent to my rooms," Jack said over his shoulder.

"Can I come?" Michelle managed before Jack opened the door.

"No," Jack said firmly. "Mom said I have to show him a different part of the castle, it's..." The silence stretched for a long, awkward moment. "You can't come!" he said finally, before shutting the door behind him.

*

Arthur tried to make sense of what information he'd been able to gather. "So, this is where you practice your... swordsmanship?"

"No, this is where I practice using what makes your sword look like a lollipop," Jack said before pulling out a small, L-shaped object. "This is a handgun. You squeeze this little lever and a bullet comes out, and that bullet can pierce through armor if someone is standing fifty paces away from you. This," he gestured vaguely at the walls surrounding them. "Is my private shooting range. This is where I practice."

It took Arthur the better part of two hours before he could hit the human silhouette in the head more than three times in a row. After he managed ten straight hits Jack began to look disgruntled.

"Well, I can certainly see why your sister isn't allowed in here," Arthur said somewhat wistfully. When, years ago, he'd insisted to his father that Morgana had no business being allowed to watch the knights' training – never mind join in – he'd been met with a lot more resistance, from all sides.

"Well," Jack looked a tad uncomfortable. "She's not really... not allowed. Our dad actually built this place because she complained about having nowhere to practice before our family hunting trips." At Arthur's expression Jack hastily added, "Only because I already had plenty of practice at the Lycée! I mean, I didn't really _need_ my own shooting range at home!"

"You... take her hunting?" Arthur said, dubiously. How did the men of this realm manage to stay sane?

*

"My father owes me more than that!" Jack said bitterly, sitting on the floor of the green guest room in the East Wing with two nearly empty bottles of scotch and the newly intoxicated alien next to him.

Arthur drowned another glass of the spicy foreign ale. "You can't just wait for your father to hand you the crown. You must be worthy; you must prove to him you'll be able to rule well."

"I've led men into battle!" Jack said passionately. "I've planned ops, I've organized raids! I enlisted as a god damn _private_, just to impress him! I went through _bootcamp_! Do you know what that was like, considering everyone knew who I was?"

Arthur spent a moment wondering why there would be a – training? – camp for boot-makers before taking another swig.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't, let me tell you!" Jack went on. "If I scrub the floor with the rest of the company I'm demeaning my station and the family's honor. If the sergeant lets me off the hook I'm getting preferential treatment and I become the most hated guy in the company."

Arthur's expression turned sour. "Honour. Just because someone's of low birth..." he stopped himself before he could go further. A strange country was no excuse to start thinking thoughts in private he wouldn't dare say to his father's face. It was... cowardly. "In any case, Your father's probably right. He's been king longer, he knows what the job requires; what the people expect. His advice may not always seem the best course of action but ultimately there's no one you can learn from more."

Jack was starting to feel nauseous, for reasons entirely unrelated to the alcohol. "I'm sure you follow your father's orders to the letter," he said with what he thought was a remarkably small amount of venom. "Your kingdom must be _so_ perfect."

Arthur felt his cheeks flush and poured himself another drink.

*

Jack took Arthur by the hand and led him through the crowd of sweaty bodies, pressed up against one another and grinding in time to a frantic beat that seemed to be pulsing from the floor. Like swords, striking at Arthur's armour.

"I have a usual table, so don't worry," Jack screamed in Arthur's ear to overcome the... music? "We won't be hanging with the plebs."

"Wasn't really my concern," Arthur shouted back, but forgot to get close enough to Jack's ear for his words to be acknowledged. A girl in a dress _Morgana_ would find appallingly revealing slipped her hand casually into Arthur's borrowed shirt as they pushed through the crowd. The sights and sounds all mixed together in a haze Arthur found overwhelming.

For the rest of the evening Arthur drank whatever Jack put in front of him, no matter color or number of unknown fruits inserted into the glass, and stared as Jack went about kissing two girls – who Arthur had the sickening suspicion were related – at the same time, practically stripping them of their dresses right there on the sattee.

The disconcerting thing was – or it would have been disconcerting, if so many other disconcerting things had not happened to Arthur recently – that Jack seemed to have his attention focused on Arthur at all times. Including when one of the girls had reached into Jack's trousers and presumably done things Arthur would no doubt find notable had he not been quite lost in the sensation of that shattering beat infiltrating his very bones, forcing his heart to adjust to its rhythm.

Perhaps it was a local custom – politeness dictating that the host keep his eyes on the guest at all times, see to the guest's every need? Arthur pondered this for a few minutes more while the server took his empty glass and replaced it with one containing a rainbow colored concoction.

*

"God, you’re so hot," Jack was muttering into Arthur’s neck three hours later, pushing Arthur through the bedroom door. His voice dropped an octave to a near growl. "I want to fuck you so badly," he said, pressing Arthur against the nearest wall and blindly reaching with his hand to lock the door.

Arthur certainly was feeling hot and sweaty, and his new trousers felt several sizes too small despite fitting perfectly a few hours ago. Jack's lips were on his, next, his body leaning into Arthur's, thighs to thighs and hips to hips and Arthur's body began issuing orders without running them by his brain first. His fingers dug into Jack’s shoulders, clutching at the loose cloth of his shirt to drag Jack closer to him and shove them both away from the wall at the same time. Arthur’s hand buried itself in Jack’s dark hair and his legs drove them both forward and Jack’s mouth was wet and hot against Arthur's skin as he slammed Jack roughly into the door.

Despite the force of the impact, Jack's arms were wrapped around around Arthur's body in an instant. "All right, all right, you can fuck me," He whispered hoarsely, before his mouth found the underside of Arthur's jaw.

They landed on the bed still swearing their trousers, with Arthur straddling Jack's hips. Arthur's hands immediately reached out to hold Jack's wrists against the mattress and Jack shuddered. Arthur, heartbeat echoing the frantic drumbeat from before, took a long look at Jack's wild eyes before saying, "I can't do this."

He rolled off of Jack and landed next to him on the bed. "I'm sorry," he added.

"You... _can't_?" Jack’s voice held an edge of barely controlled fury.

"It's not about you," Arthur said, still trying to steady his breath. "I... I just can't."

Jack rose from the bed angrily and began to pick up his clothes.

Arthur had expected shouting, demands for an explanation, perhaps a good punch. Jack's reaction, however, decidedly lacked... outrage. _Morgana_ had been angrier with him three weeks ago over him accidentally overfeeding her favourite horse. Arthur closed his eyes before surrendering to the urge to make amends. "There's someone else," he sighed. "Merlin. My manservant; the one I told you about. He and I... we're..." Arthur opened his eyes, oddly nervous by the sudden silence in the room.

Jack stood frozen by the bed, mostly dressed. "But... but you're the crown prince," he said, looking shocked, almost as if he were trying to sort out a puzzle without a logical solution. "You're the _only heir_. You don't even have any siblings!"

"I know!" Arthur said – failing to see what potential siblings had to do with it – Jack was right, he was the _crown prince_. "It's stupid! As if I'm some servant boy who won't dare make his move!" Arthur got up and began pacing the room back and forth. "I've fought magical creatures! I've faced death itself! My knights are known as the bravest and fiercest in all of Albion! But then... there's Merlin, and it's all as if..."

"Wait," Jack interrupted, frowning. "So you two are _together_?"

Arthur felt the strongest urge to punch Jack in the stomach. But he had started this, and he would see the conversation through. "Not... exactly." Arthur struggled for the right words. "Merlin's shared a secret with me that's... that I probably wouldn't have shared with myself. And I can't just..." He sighed. "I've come to care for him a great deal. It's... not as simple as it usually is."

Jack's expression was a cross between contempt and disbelief. "And that's why you won't sleep with me?"

"I don't expect you to understand!" Arthur felt the color rise to his cheeks. "I'm certain you've never met anyone you wanted but couldn't have. Things must be so _simple_ in your kingdom."

Arthur could see the pain creep into Jack's face. "Shut up," he said bitterly after a moment.

Arthur spent the night sleeping in a different part of the castle.

*

Jack walked into the kitchen the following morning looking for a glass of water to go with his hangover, and found his entire family fawning over the criminally-unhungover-looking, newest blond sensation. It was turning into a disturbing trend.

"Jack! Good of you to join us," his father said, with a smile more scorning than hot coffee poured over one's lap. "Our guest has just been telling me about some of the strange customs they have in his land." His father gestured to Arthur, who was sitting at the table between Michelle and Jack's mother. "Go on, please, I believe you were getting to the part where you followed your father's orders despite disagreeing with him?"

Arthur looked uncomfortable for a moment before replying. "Actually, I'm done telling the story of Sir Owen and Sir Geldan's disagreement that I helped my father settle, my lord."

"Oh." His father didn't seem surprised in the least. "Pardon me. What was it you were saying before Jack interrupted us?"

"I was just--" going to continue kissing your ass, my lord, Jack completed mentally, and when he caught Arthur’s eyes for a brief moment Arthur at least had the grace to look a little uncomfortable. But it only lasted an instant, and a moment later Arthur’s face broke into a charming smile, all of it directed at Michelle. "I just wanted to say again, my lord, that your daughter is very beautiful."

"Indeed, she is." His father smiled, then turned his eyes to Jack; all the humor left them at once, leaving behind lips stretched in an unnatural mockery of happiness. "My boy, if only you could stay longer, I'm sure our Jack could learn so much from you."

Jack poured coffee into his cup and tried very hard not to throw up.

*

"It's almost noon. My father will be expecting me to entertain Lady Deneway and her daughter; they should have arrived at Camelot last night," Arthur explained. "Merlin has to get me back before then or there'll be no hiding my absence. He's a terrible liar, you see." Jack could see Arthur battling a smile. "I think that maybe my being back in this room will make it easier for him to get me back, somehow."

"Can't hurt, I suppose," Jack shrugged. "So, you and this Merlin, you said you met when he came to Camelot? And that he wasn't really interested in you at first, right?"

Arthur's eyes were a mystery. "You shouldn't wait," he said. "You shouldn't wait to be king, to be the man you know you must be."

"What?" Jack said, taken aback by the non sequitur. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I've... defied my father before," Arthur said, sounding as though the words were pulled from him by pliers, one at a time. "Only when I _knew_ his temper was blinding him to the truth," he added hastily. "And I've always been willing to accept the consequences! But my kingdom, it's not -- it isn't perfect. I just... wanted you to know."

Jack could dimly hear the pendulum clock from the hallway ticking evenly; tock-tock, tick-tock. "Well," he exhaled finally. "My life isn't what you'd call _simple_, so, I guess we're even."

It wasn't long after that that Jack realized mid-sentence that he was talking to empty air. Arthur had disappeared as suddenly as he'd materialized. Jack couldn't force himself to get up, so instead he spent twenty more minutes sitting on the floor of his bedroom, telling no one in particular the things he hadn't allowed himself to say out loud for years.


End file.
